e all the
vital juices out of both man and animal.

Drew touched his aching arm soothingly. It still hurt, although the
rawness had healed during the weeks between that turbulent crossing of
the Tennessee and this morning in Mississippi as they moved at the Union
position on the ridge above the abandoned ghost town of Harrisburg. The
remnant of Morgan fugitives, some eighty strong, had fallen in with
General Bedford Forrest's ranging scouts at Corinth, and had ridden
still farther southward to join his main army just on the eve of what
promised to be a big battle.

"Hot!" echoed Kirby. "A man could git hisself killed today an' never
know no difference."

They were reluctant to re-enter the stream progressing along the road.
The dust was ankle-deep there, choking thick when stirred by feet and
hoof to a powdery cloud. In contrast, there were no clouds in the sky,
and the sun promised to be a ball of brass very soon.

Yesterday had been as punishing. Men wilted in the road, overcome by
heat and lack of water. If there ever had been any moisture in this
country, it had long ago been boiled away. The very leaves were brittle
and grayish-looking where they weren't inches deep in dust.

As of last night, the Morgan men were an addition to Crossland's
Kentuckians under General Buford. The speech of the blue grass was
familiar, but nothing yet had made them a part of this new army with
which they marched.

Drew reached for one of the canteens. His worry over Boyd, dulled by the
passing of time, stirred sluggishly. The other had kept up the grueling
pace which had brought the fugitives across half of Kentucky, all of
Tennessee, and into this new eddy of war, making no complaint after his
first harsh introduction to action--which might be in part an adventure,
but which was mostly something to be endured--with the dogged
stubbornness of a seasoned veteran. And Boyd had manifestly toughened in
that process. After Drew's mishap in the river, Boyd had accepted
responsibility, helping to keep the scout in the saddle and riding, even
when Drew had been bemused by a day or two of fever, unaware of either
their enforced pace or their destination.

No, somewhere along the line of retreat Drew had stopped worrying about
Boyd. And now, with the youngster already appointed horse holder for the
day's battle, he need not think of him engulfed in action. Though any
fighting future was decided mainly by the capricious chance which struc